


When I Close My Eyes

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Close My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Filling in as a substitute writer for the sjficathon and this is my offering. Requirements were blue Jell-O, Thor and a plushie. Written for karma_aster.
> 
> Originally posted August 2005

WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES

What he couldn’t forget, he simply blocked out or ignored. Years of keeping secrets, one lost year in a marriage falling apart around him and his innate reluctance to reveal himself to those around him made it easy. He could forget the warm press of her body against his side, her head resting on his shoulder; the adoration in her eyes…and the sound of her voice when she said “sir”. All of these he could forget. But the dreams…the dreams haunted him.

He’d dreamt on the ice planet, dreams that had made no sense to him. Dreams that only made sense now, now that he remembered. He actually had dreamed of mining naked, he hadn’t just said it to shock Karlin—or her. Buck naked, only wearing a miner’s helmet and carrying a pick-axe, deep in a long, long tunnel. Let the psychiatrists go crazy with that one. He’d dreamt of pipes and pressure gauges, quotas and shift changes. 

He’d dreamt of food, not the slop they’d been give to eat, but food that exploded on your palate and not only satisfied your hunger but satisfied all the senses. Tables loaded with food that wasn’t bland and colorless. He knew their names and tastes now—golden orange of pumpkin pie, the odor of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the warm air. Pink yogurt that smelled and tasted like ripe cherries on a hot summer day; Jell-O jiggling and wobbling in all the colors of the rainbow; blue, yellow, red, orange and even green. And there had been steak and potatoes, beer and wine and sometimes just water. Icy cold and more than enough to slake the thirst of endless days spent in the overheated and dry atmosphere of their artificial world.

There were the half-remembered fragments that only made sense now, because they weren’t dreams at all but were instead snippets of his life. The teddy bear that had been Charlie’s favorite—and went into his grave with him. The dizzying ride through the Stargate—another psychiatrist’s wet dream. Thor and his recent stint at pest control on a galactic scale. Crazy super powers and something even crazier than his fragmented dreams, feelings that couldn’t be erased and wouldn’t die—even in his dreams. 

He’d dreamt of making love to her, in verdant green meadows; far, far away from the crowded and stale-smelling quarters that housed too many sweaty, dirty bodies. Out in the open, where the sun shone so brightly it hurt your eyes and where the air was so fresh that it almost hurt to breathe. Out where they were no longer Thera and Jonah, bound by the rules and regulations of a society that wasn’t even theirs. He’d dreamt of living freely with her and loving her, with nothing more pressing to do than to make her smile. Never once did he imagine that he had been living that dream, except when he awoke and found he was back in his nightmare.

And the dreams hadn’t ended. No matter how hard he tried—no matter how much he drank, no matter how many pills he took, no matter how hard he pushed his body to the edge of physical exhaustion and beyond, he still dreamt. Only now he knew there was no waking from this nightmare, no cavalry coming to the rescue—or even a little gray alien. He had to live with the hell that was his life without her. He had to see her every day, watch her smile and laugh at everyone but him, see her eyes sad and pensive when they rested on him. 

But like a man thirsting for light and beauty in a world where his soul had been sucked dry, he couldn’t stay away from her. Moth to flame, steel to magnet, Homer to Marge; name any sad and tired cliché and he fit it. Because he couldn’t stay away, because he needed her for the ultimate cliché—to make the nightmares go away and his dreams come true. 

And because he couldn’t stay away, he stood on her doorstep, shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket against the lightly falling rain. He didn’t bother with the doorbell, he wasn’t a supplicant begging for favor; he used his hand, the hard rap of the wood against his knuckles a vivid reminder that this time he was awake. Even though it was late, the door opened almost immediately. Her eyes looked as haunted as his felt; the light from the foyer cast her face into shadows. Except for her eyes. Laughing and sparkling blue now dark and sorrowful, the color of the midnight sky.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. She stepped back and let him in, walking away and letting him follow or not. How could he not? He followed the gentle sway of her hips down the endless hall that ended in her bedroom. She was already dressed for sleep, the bed covers drawn but undisturbed. He took off his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the floor. She sat on the bed, hugging her drawn up knees, her eyes solemn as she watched him.

“Do you dream?” he asked, his voice rough. She didn’t answer, her eyes following the journey of his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt. “About them?” he added, almost cryptically, his shirt falling on top of his jacket.

“No,” she answered, her quiet whisper killing all his hopes as soon as it left her lips. Before he could turn away, her eyes met his, grave and unflinching. “I dream of you.”

It was more than he had dared hope for and all he had ever dreamed. He fumbled with the rest of his clothes, cursing the wet laces on his boots, until she was there, helping him. Cool fingers lightly danced across his fevered flesh, drawing him down onto the bed and into her arms. 

Dreams had nothing on the reality. It was so real, it almost hurt. But the pleasure overpowered the pain. When his fingers encountered soft cloth instead of flesh, it disappeared under his eager hands. Her skin was as silky and smooth as he had dreamed; her kisses more sweet than he could ever have imagined, growing more intense as the passion that lay dormant in both of them exploded in a maelstrom of desire. 

His dream of cherishing her, of leisurely exploration and discovery would have to wait. Her desire rose as strong and hard as his; her lips, hands and eyes demanding that he deliver on the promise of their mutual desire and need. Hands that he had watched a hundred times delicately explore some alien device now caressed and explored him. Their limbs tangled in a flurry of movement and then time almost seemed to crawl to a halt as he slowly slid into her welcoming body. 

His eyes closed for the briefest moment, the feeling of finally being home almost overwhelming in its intensity. But he quickly opened them, not wanting to miss a single moment or nuance of expression. Eyes filled with love so deep that it shook him to his soul looked up at him. It was all the confirmation he needed. Savoring each and every moment as if it might be the last, he moved with an effortless grace that she easily matched. The initial wonder and awe of finally being with her transforming into an amazing sense of comfort and familiarity that only confirmed what he had always known, that they were destined for this moment and for each other.

Moving more strongly and with deliberate intent, his eyes narrowed on a rush of fierce satisfaction when her breath hitched and she gasped his name. “Again,” he murmured, watching as her eyes flashed in comprehension. He thrust deeply and her hands tightened on his shoulders, her back arching and her slender legs holding him securely. 

“Jack,” she repeated on a soft sigh. His name…not some false name, not Colonel and not sir…but his name. 

It was more than he had hoped for when he saw and felt the first tremors of her release. Her slender body trembling delicately against him and around him, his name still a sweet cry on her lips. His world exploded around him then and he was lost in the unparalleled ecstasy of his dream turned to reality.

Her voice was soft and wistful in his ear. “Am I dreaming?”

Raising his head, he looked down at her, eyes no longer closed nor trying to hide the love he could no longer disguise. “No,” he whispered roughly, smoothing back her short hair. “No more dreams. We’re finally awake.”

THE END


End file.
